


[a nameless feeling]

by talkfast



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Muteness, Redemption, Violence, gays in space, hux cares about like two things maximum, ren is extremely dramatic, the babe-8 makes an appearance, the redemption au i cant believe that i wrote
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-28
Updated: 2016-04-28
Packaged: 2018-06-05 00:51:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6682828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talkfast/pseuds/talkfast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hux makes the unexpected decision to follow in FN-2187's footsteps.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. the first order

**Author's Note:**

> this story wouldnt leave me alone
> 
> im so mad that i actually wrote this

Personnel records indicate that FN-2187 had been an exemplary Stormtrooper, who consistently scored highly in evaluations and obeyed superior officers without question.

They also indicate that he had been reconditioned no fewer than thirty-seven times. This makes him a statistical anomaly. No other Stormtrooper has ever been reconditioned more than a dozen times before they were terminated and recycled for parts.

General Hux accesses the footage for these reconditioning sessions and he watches.

 _“I was telling them a story about the stars,”_ a little boy explains. He has never experienced reconditioning before and doesn’t know what to expect. 

_“Well, I didn’t really think that I was breaking any rules. Ten-One was really hungry so I just gave him a little bit of my food. He’s growing really fast right now. That’s why he’s hungry. It’s not that we don’t get enough food, I just wanted to share it.”_

_“I don’t understand what you want me to say!”_

_“She burned her finger during target practice. I used disinfectant from an emergency kit to treat the wound, like they taught us.”_ FN-2187 appears proud to have demonstrated proficiency with basic first aid, without understanding that his actions were prohibited.

_“I thought that it was…scared. Yes, sir. I know that droids can’t feel emotion. It just…”_

_“I don’t want to talk about it,”_ an older boy says with tears streaming down his face. _“I put a finger down his throat because otherwise he was going to die. I thought that the Order wanted Stormtroopers alive, so we could fight. I don’t understand why you called me here.”_

 _“Sir, I’m loyal to the First Order,”_ he insists to the reconditioning officer. _“I’m proud to be a Stormtrooper.”_

_“It seemed like he was in distress and I couldn’t just ignore it because of patrol duty.”_

FN-2187 has learned better than to fidget during the initial interview of a reconditioning session. _“I don’t understand. The acquisition request would keep sanitation well below budget in the long-term. I was fulfilling my responsibilities as a supervisor.”_

_“Once I had completed the objective, I went back to secure FN-2003. He had been incapacitated by long-range fire. It wasn’t a specified objective of the simulation, I know.”_

After he has reviewed the footage of all thirty-seven sessions, Hux concludes that FN-2187 failed to prioritise the First Order’s objectives over the lives of individuals. He failed to trust the judgment of superior officers and disobeyed direct orders to fire at Tuanal.

With another reconditioning session imminent, which would likely have resulted in FN-2187’s termination, he defected to the Resistance holding a valuable hostage as collateral.

Hux should begin writing speeches that will condemn FN-2187, to be broadcast across all territories controlled by the First Order.

Instead, he hesitates for the very briefest moment and then accesses the first log again.

_“I was telling them a story about the stars. They’re soldiers just like us and they’re bright because they have lights in their helmets. That’s how they talk to each other.”_

His father would have called this pathetic.

_“And some of the stars are friends, so they send messages to each other using their lights. They say things like, ‘hello, how was your training?’ But they never say ‘goodnight’ or ‘good morning’ because it’s always night time for stars.”_

He closes his eyes, listening to the child’s voice.

* * *

It appears that Kylo Ren did not even bother to close the door before another of his violent rages against the _Finalizer’s_ equipment.

A pair of Stormtroopers have paused in their usual patrol and salute once they recognise the general. He dismisses them with the barest wave of his hand and sweeps down the hallway. 

Inside the interrogation room, a computer terminal explodes into a cascade of sparks. General Hux observes yet again that what has taken extensive time and resources to shape to a purpose can be torn apart in a matter of seconds, when exposed to destructive force.

He catches the barest glimpse of Ren’s face twisted up in misdirected rage, before he swings around in an arc of light—

—then there is a weapon nearly pressed against the vulnerable skin at his throat, close enough that Hux can feel emanations of heat and lethal power.

After a tense moment, the lightsaber blinks out of existence. 

Without its red illumination or his customary mask, Ren looks significantly less formidable. Hux has always been unsettled by the other man’s appearance—soft, youthful and imperfect, with moles scattered across his skin which nearly distract from his dark eyes.

He is breathing fast, hair falling loose around his face. “General,” he murmurs.

Hux straightens the collar of his greatcoat, disguising an odd vulnerability with irritation.

“Need I remind you that the training rooms are located in Sector Five, Lord Ren?”

Sparring droids have been designed to be replaced and are an acceptable target for Ren’s anger.

Rather than looking appropriately chastised, Ren grimaces and turns away. The hand which isn’t holding the lightsaber hilt stretches out, fingers taut, then they curl into a loose fist.

Hux has the sudden realisation that he has never seen the knight without gloves. His hands are scarred and calloused from years of training. There is another mole between his thumb and index finger. He fixates on this minor detail as though it is _significant,_ though he would not be able to verbalise why.

Ren’s physiology should be of no concern to Brendol Hux II, general of the First Order.

In the impossibly quiet moments before he falls asleep, Hux remembers that Ren has a mole above his lip…at the furrow of his brow…across his cheek…between his fingers…like he is a map to the universe and they mark out a multitude of galaxies.

* * *

There is a hierarchical system of order aboard the _Finalizer_ and Hux has the second highest ranked position. As general, he is accountable to the Supreme Leader and no one else.

None of the officers under his command are able to question his authority. 

They accept his amendments to the Starkiller superweapon design when he tells them that it will more accurately monitor the planet’s core status, enabling droids to take on all manual construction work; it will no longer be necessary to expose troopers to dangerous surface and subterranean conditions.

Captain Phasma has informed him that the troopers are able to evacuate all main and support staff members from Starkiller Base within eight minutes, and that they question whether so many emergency evacuation drills are necessary. He does not give them an explanation.

Within months, the superweapon will be ready to devastate entire planets. It has been the work of generations, costing a nearly inconceivable amount of money and hundreds of lives.

Hux stands at a window, looking out at the hostile landscape of what had once been a nondescript ice planet in a system far from this one.

It is achingly cold.

* * *

When the announcement comes that all staff have been evacuated to the _Finalizer,_ Hux is staring down at Starkiller from his darkened quarters.

He triggers the explosion remotely—and watches with horrified fascination as the planet’s surface _breaks_ —from aching chasms, heat climbs out from the core which would have fuelled the destruction of the First Order’s enemies—it cracks, booms, _explodes._

Even when it lights up his quarters in painful, _burning white,_ he doesn’t look away. 

Hux falls to his knees, watching what he has wrought.

There are heavy footsteps. “What have you _done?!”_ Kylo Ren shouts, furious, grabbing his shoulder tight enough to leave lasting bruises.

The force of it causes strands of hair to fall across his face, sticking uncomfortably to tear-streaked skin. His voice is calm when he confesses, “It was a selfish act.”

“With this act of treachery you have made yourself a target—of the First Order, its countless members and sympathisers! Do you understand that you will be _executed?_ You will not even be able to flee _this ship_ before you are killed by the very troops you have commanded!”

“I never expected to survive this war,” he replies.

Ren makes a sound of exasperation and _anguish._ He reaches out to grasp a handful of red hair, pulling, and Hux’ head falls back without any resistance. 

In those precious moments before the lightsaber is activated, he looks up at the other man, face showing everything that he could never have _admitted_ that he wanted before such an act of complete betrayal against the organisation that would have punished him for it. 

What he wanted was—

Ren bends over to press their mouths together, hard enough that their teeth collide—but he’s grateful for the momentary pain because he wanted _this:_ a hand in his hair, hot breath across his skin, soft lips and the overwhelming sensation of his tongue, stroking—

Then they are sharing each other’s breaths, open-mouthed. The lightsaber never appears.

Ren is looking at him with an emotion that neither of them would be able to name—and while they are just breathing together, Hux memorises the placement of stars on his skin.

It is wrenched away too quickly. There are the sounds of commotion outside his quarters. Without a word, the man who had kissed him—more importantly, who had defied what would undoubtedly be the will of the Supreme Leader by choosing not to kill him—goes.

Hux counts his own heart beats as a reminder that he is still alive. 

_One, two, three, four…_

He pulls himself up on _ten_ and leaves the temporary safety of his quarters.

 _Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen,_ he counts.

A squadron of Stormtroopers who have clearly not been given orders salute as he passes.

_Twenty-one, twenty-two…_

He is nearly at the shuttle bay. _Twenty-three—_

“Traitor!” comes a familiar voice.

Behind him, the regimented steps of Phasma leading a squadron of troopers. When she commands them to open fire, they hesitate, which gives him bare seconds to—

Then his knee is kicked out from behind and he hits the ground heavily.

Phasma stands over him with an intimidating blaster rifle at her waist. Instead of aiming it, she takes out a more primitive knife. 

“Any last words?” she asks, voice distorted by her helmet.

He laughs at the ridiculousness of that request, grinning up at her.

The knife cuts above the jugular, denying him a relatively quick death. It slices his throat, following the line of his jaw—and he knows that the wound is shallow enough that he will die slowly, blood spilling out onto the _Finalizer’s_ immaculate floors.

Following Phasma’s orders, the squadron leaves him there without assistance.

Hux has enough sense of mind to apply pressure to the wound, unbuttoning the now blood-red collar of his greatcoat and strapping it around his neck. He tries to stand, but slips. If he leans his body weight against the walls, then he can make it to the shuttle bay—

Nobody stops him.

He stumbles into the nearest shuttle craft and enters a security code with shaking fingers. 

Nobody stops him.

In emergency mode, the autopilot will direct the shuttle to anywhere that it is safe to land. It announces destination coordinates that Hux doesn’t recognise, then initiates launch.

Nobody stops him.

Stars blink past as the shuttle enters hyperdrive—then the turbulence that comes with entering a planet’s atmosphere, a haze of ultraviolet—

The shuttle announces that they have landed and activated a distress beacon.

Hux uses his remaining energy to open the door, then immediately falls from the craft. His face presses against damp soil and he struggles to breathe past the blood filling his airways. The sky overhead is blue, so blue. He thinks, _this is a better place to die._


	2. the resistance

Less than a hundred people live on An Sin Je, a small planet which offers ideal conditions for agricultural development but no valuable natural resources. It is too far away from any significant trading routes to make a worthwhile investment. Technology means that even the most hostile surfaces can become arable—so why would anyone bother with An Sin Je?

What matters to him is that the sun rises every morning and sets every evening. He has become familiar with insect calls and soft grass underneath his feet. Life grows so readily here that weeds must be cleared away, sprouting up through cracks in stone paths. Even where they have not cultivated it, food can be found in the natural vegetation.

He is disassembling ship components so that they can be repurposed, when he’s approached by an unfamiliar droid. Its spherical body has been designed for 360-degree movement. It looks around at the components and then focuses on him.

[designation [query]] the droid beeps. It waits patiently for a response.

He switches on the device strapped securely to the first two fingers of his right hand. On the smooth plastic panel are buttons for short and long beeps, which he uses to communicate: [H, U, X, human. designation [query]]

It rolls back, surprised to hear him speaking binary. 

[BB-8 droid. language competent [query]]

He smiles down at the droid, amused.

[very competent]

BB-8 makes a sound that has no direct translation, expressing appreciative surprise.

It begins by asking if he has any information about the shuttle which crashed on An Sin Je: [shuttle crash [parameter=past] data [query]]

Natural vegetation has long since claimed the shuttle’s interior. He explains that they are slowly dismantling the craft and gestures at the components scattered around him.

“There you are, buddy!”

The droid spins around to beep excitedly at a man dressed in a distinctive orange flight suit—and he’s followed by the last person that Hux ever expected to see.

There is a weapon aimed at him within milliseconds.

FN-2187 looks at him, eyes wide and hand steady. “What are you doing here?”

When he reaches for the communication device, FN-2187 warns him, “Don’t.”

Hux glances over at the Resistance pilot, who doesn’t seem inclined to get involved. So he gently tugs at the scarf wrapped many times around his neck, until the skin is bared—FN-2187 breathes in sharply at the sight of a newly healed scar.

He makes a gesture at his mouth to communicate that he is unable to speak.

[binary language very competent] BB-8 chimes in.

[gratitude] he replies without looking away from FN-2187.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” the pilot mutters, running a hand through his hair.

“I thought you died on Starkiller Base,” FN-2187 says accusingly.

Experience has taught Hux that while droids understand binary without unnecessary words, people usually need more than literal translations. So he taps out the words individually: [I was close to death but escaped in a shuttle.]

“What caused the explosion?”

Hux laughs silently. [E, X, P, L, O, S, I, V, E, S]

They bind his wrists with a cursory explanation that they’re taking him to the Resistance. BB-8 extends a taser and sends an electrical shock through his leg.

[designation=first order]

With his hands bound so tightly he can’t argue with the droid. Neither can he say goodbye to the people who had saved his life with emergency medical treatment, who showed him how to use the communication device, or to the small planet which had become his home.

* * *

“Well, this _is_ a surprise.”

General Organa sits across from him with an expression of endless patience.

“Brendol Hux II,” she murmurs. “The First Order has publicly stated that you died more than a year ago, in the explosion that destroyed Starkiller Base.”

[There were no casualties at Starkiller Base. It was evacuated.]

Her gaze sharpens. “On your orders?”

Hux taps his index finger once, _yes._

“Did you have reason to expect that there would be an explosion?”

Hux smiles knowingly and taps his finger again, _yes._

Without breaking eye contact, she asks: “What happened on Starkiller Base?”

He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, Hux observes that she is a smaller woman than he had expected, considering her reputation and that Kylo Ren had been so much taller than himself—though there is a softness about her features that must have been inherited by her son, along with eyes that particular shade of brown.

He remembers how those eyes had looked at him, shaking breaths and the white light of a planet beginning its transformation into a star. His chest aches painfully.

“We were surprised to learn that a First Order shuttle had landed on An Sin Je around the same time that Starkiller Base was destroyed. Even more so when we discovered that a high ranking officer such as yourself did not leave the planet during the months that followed.” General Organa asks again: “What happened on Starkiller Base?”

[informant [query]] he taps out quickly. Then, realising that she might not understand: [Who told you where to find the shuttle?]

He has never understood why the First Order did not pursue him to An Sin Je, when they could have easily tracked the shuttle’s course. They must have known that he had a slim chance of survival and knew sensitive information that would be valuable to their enemies.

His hand clenches into a fist when she doesn’t answer the question. Clearly, the general expects him to provide information before she reciprocates.

He taps out [Starkiller Base] then hesitates.

“Take your time,” she says, infuriatingly.

[FN-2187 took a hostage as collateral. Destroying the superweapon was my collateral.] He hesitates again before admitting: [I wanted more than the First Order could offer.]

She seems to accept this as the truth. “What was it that you wanted?”

Even after all those months on An Sin Je, Hux struggles to articulate an answer.

He doesn’t reply using the device, instead silently tapping out the letters: _M, O, R, E._

General Organa considers him for a long moment. “We can reverse the damage that has been done to your throat. Following minor surgery, you would be able to speak again-”

Hux taps his finger twice, _no._

“Keep in mind that you won’t be denied medical treatment.”

He presses the issue: [Who told you that a shuttle had landed on An Sin Je?]

When her mouth tenses into a narrow line, he realises that General Organa has no intention of passing along the identity of her informant.

“You won’t be detained here much longer, provided that you continue to cooperate,” she tells him without acknowledging the question. “If you want to return to An Sin Je then that can be arranged. However, I suggest that you think about your involvement in this war. There will be no peace in this galaxy until the First Order has been stopped.”

The implication being that he can give them information about the First Order that might assist the Resistance in bringing the organisation to its knees. Hux wonders what gave General Organa the impression that his defection had anything to do with _conscience._

* * *

It’s not the first time that he has dreamed of this, with his cheek pressed against a pillow—

Ren is barely visible in the darkness. His breath catches when Hux reaches out—and then there is a trembling hand grasping his, the sensations of warmth and still-drying blood smearing across their skin where their fingers intertwine.

The figure comes closer, hesitantly. His fingertips brush across the pulse point at Hux’s wrist and press there long enough to count out slow and regular heartbeats.

Kneeling on the mattress, his other hand pushes the hair back from Hux’s forehead. It has grown so much longer since the last time that they saw each other. Ren makes a choked noise into the quiet of the room, stroking across his cheek and below his ear.

Hux turns slightly to press a soft kiss against his skin—exhaling with relief in the moments before Ren angles their mouths together.

He welcomes him into the bed, not caring about the metallic scent of blood that seeps through the thin material covering Ren’s shoulder and into the sheets beneath them. Hux doesn’t care about anything beyond soft lips and solid body—and the unexpected sensation of lashes brushing against his skin as Ren holds on and simply _breathes._

Relaxed enough to fall into a deeper sleep, he noses at the other man’s collarbone. Surrounded by warmth and listening to the sound of a steady heartbeat, Hux rests.

This is not the first time that Hux has dreamed of this—except that when he wakes up to a room brightened by sunlight, nothing has changed.

Ren’s arms tighten around him at the sound of people knocking on the door. After that brief warning, General Organa enters the room followed by armed Resistance fighters. “You were supposed to be at the medical ward several hours ago, Ben.”

He stands up with obvious reluctance. Instead of the black robes that Hux is accustomed to, he is wearing a thin brown material which has been stained darker at the shoulder by dried blood. “My injuries are not serious,” he insists.

“Then treatment won’t take long.”

There is some silent communication between them. 

Ren doesn’t argue any further, turning back and running fingers through Hux’s hair—holding his head _so gently_ and then smirking. “You thought it was a dream,” he murmurs before pressing a cheek against red hair. “I will be back soon,” he promises.

Surprised, Hux doesn’t reach for the communication device where it is waiting at his bedside table until the door has already closed. 

He is uncertain what he would have said to the figure from his dreams—to _Ren,_ who had defected to the Resistance for an unknown reason, who had told them to investigate a shuttle landing at An Sin Je, who had come to sleep beside him sooner than stem the flow of his own blood, and who had given every assurance that he would quickly return. 

Being able to touch him again is more than he had ever expected from the universe.

* * *

The realisation that General Organa had not wanted to tell him that Ren was the informant not only because of his prior allegiance to the First Order, but also because she did not want to encourage any involvement with her son, amuses him.

[How long has Ren been fighting for the Resistance?]

“He surrendered to our soldiers and came here willingly five months ago.”

Hux doesn’t need to hear anything more. He nods, sliding a device across the table. 

It had been provided to him pre-loaded with the Resistance’s version of events which had occurred so far during the war, condemning the First Order as ‘inhumane’ and praising the efforts of their own fighters in quelling what they consider to be a great evil.

In the hours that had passed between waking and this interview with the general, Hux had overwritten those files and typed out everything that he knows about the First Order—even noting what would have certainly changed after his defection. If they are strategically minded, knowing what the First Order _is not_ doing can be valuable information.

After scrolling through a few pages, she looks at him with incredulity.

Hux smiles wide enough to show teeth. [What would you like to know, general?]

* * *

For the first time since he was brought to the Resistance base, Hux is allowed to walk freely, without an armed guard or handcuffs restricting his movement. BB-8 finds him sitting near the strip of paved ground which marks out the landing zone. It beeps an apology: [designation=first order [parameter=past] regret action]

[designation [parameter=present] [query]]

The droid purposefully bumps into his leg. [H, U, X, friend human]

Hux smiles and touches its slightly dusty casing with a fingertip. [gratitude]

From here, he has a better view of the sunset than anywhere else on the base. The sky changes colours gradually, grey-blue streaked through with pinks and warm reds.

BB-8 makes a noise that has no direct translation, communicating surprise before it turns and hurriedly rolls away.

Hux is not pleased to see that Ren’s injured shoulder has been bandaged—meaning that the Resistance lacks the resources to apply bacta to the wound, healing it significantly faster. The other man has changed into robes made from a thicker material, protecting him against the cool breezes that warn of upcoming nightfall. It appears that he no longer wears gloves.

“How were you communicating with that droid?” he asks out of curiosity.

He doesn’t respond, suddenly unsure if Ren can understand binary.

So Ren reaches for his hand and for several moment just stares down at the device strapped to his forefingers. “This is…” he trails off.

Hux pulls at the scarf wrapped around his neck, revealing the scar, not moving away when Ren touches it with slightly trembling fingers.

“They told me that you had been wounded, but…” Ren makes a choked-off sound. Kneeling on the ground with his head lowered, he presses his cheek against Hux’s palm, even though the communication device must dig uncomfortably into his skin.

He has always mistakenly thought that Ren’s hair is black. Instead, it's a deep brown that catches the sunlight as Hux runs gentle fingers through it.

Then there is another presence in his mind: _I was able to hide your escape from our Supreme Leader._

Telepathic communication has an emotional dimension. Ren uses the title contemptuously, his disdain readily apparent. 

_That was when I realised that he could not teach me anything that I did not already have mastery of._

His attempt at sending a message is successful: _You joined the Resistance._

Ren looks up at him with poorly concealed anxiety. _The Light has never stopped calling to me,_ he confesses. _Even with systems between us, I have never been able to silence my mother’s voice…and then my father offered…_

Their height difference makes it easy for him to lean down, touching their foreheads. Ren exhales into the space between them and then _there is none_ —he doesn’t complain about the device even when it presses hard into his jaw—they kiss just as passionately but _deeper_ than they had aboard the _Finalizer,_ and when they part, look at each other heavy-lidded.

Hux suppresses a shiver in the cold night air and Ren stands, pulling him close.

Past his still-healing shoulder, Hux watches the sky darken and thousands of stars become visible. He imagines that they are speaking to each other across the vast expanses of space, just like they did in a story that he heard, once…and he closes his eyes, content.


End file.
